The Room of Requirement had reshaped itself into a tranquil garden - a soft, 'sun'-dappled haven walled by ivy and old stone. The air smelled faintly of mint and wild orchids, though Gabriel had no idea if that, or really any of the flowers were actually real. Several small fountains trickled in the corners, their waters catching the amber glow of floating lanterns. At the base of one of those fountains sat Gabriel and Hermione, legs crossed, shoes discarded. Crookshanks was sprawled across their feet like a lazy guardian lion.
Hermione was muttering under her breath as she dabbed a thick herbal paste over the leathery black scars covering Gabriel's left hand - the aftermath of the Boggart lesson. Her fingers were gentle, but the tight line of her jaw betrayed her mood.
Gabriel laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck with his good hand.
"Are you mad?"
Her eyes didn't leave his hand. "Do you think I'm mad?" she asked, in a voice so calm it was practically a warning on itself.
He studied her face: her hair was frizzier than usual, her lips pressed in a thin, dangerous line, and the small vein on her temple had decided to make an appearance.
"I'm… pretty sure you are," he admitted.
"Oh? And whyever would I be mad?" she asked with deliberate slowness.
"Because…" He drew out the word, buying time. "I disrupted class?"
She didn't respond.
"Because I broke the staffroom?" he offered more firmly.
Still nothing. Her silence was more terrifying than a Boggart.
"…Because I'm an idiot?" he rushed out finally.
"If that were the case," she said coolly, "then I'd scarcely have a moment where I wasn't mad."
He winced, but couldn't help snorting, which earned him another pointed glare.
"Why are you mad, Mione?" he asked with a half-smile.
She met his gaze for a long second - long enough for him to see the exhaustion beneath her irritation - then groaned into her hands.
"Why is my boyfriend such a boy," she mumbled into her palms.
Gabriel didn't say a word. Which, in retrospect, was probably the wrong choice, because when she peeked up, his grin had reached catastrophic levels.
"Oh, wipe that dumb smile off your face," she huffed.
But Gabriel only grinned wider, practically vibrating where he sat.
"That's the first time you called me that," he said, utterly delighted.
Hermione's cheeks flushed a soft pink. "You're insufferable," she muttered, going back to dabbing the paste.
He hummed contentedly, watching her work - the way she bit her lip in concentration, the faint lavender scent of her hair. The smile lingered, but a hint of thoughtfulness crept in behind it, softening his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Hermione looked up from where she was still spreading the salve over his scars. "What are you sorry for?"
"For being so weird," he said simply.
Her brows furrowed, questioning.
Gabriel gave a dry little laugh, raising the hand she wasn't treating. The leathery black texture that had begun spreading over the back of it caught the warm golden light of the fountains.
"That," he said, gesturing at his hand, "is not normal."
He pointed to his mouth with a crooked grin. "This isn't either." The sharp glint of his fang-like teeth punctuated the words.
Then, focusing for a second, the pressure behind his eyes pulsed; his sclera darkened, pitch-black spreading like ink across his gaze. "Or this."
Finally, he tapped his temple. "And this one's the worst."
Hermione frowned softly.
He huffed, trying to make light of it but failing. "I keep having these violent thoughts, Mione. I want to break things - hurt people - and I have to use literal magic to rethink every little impulse before I act. I've gotten good at it, really. But sometimes I wonder…" He looked down, voice lowering. "When I'm mean to someone. When I laugh at someone getting hurt. When I start a fight - was that me? Or the monster? What if the difference is smaller than I hope? What if I hurt you one day?"
"Gabriel-"
"And even when I am in control," he went on, words spilling faster, "I'm still a freak. I have to think every second about how strong I am - about how easy it would be to break something. To break you." He pointed to his scars, to the metallic sheen of his nails. "And these? They're literally cursed. You get a scratch from them, and that's it - it's a scar for life."
He raked a hand through his hair, voice cracking with frustration. "So how long until I end up like him, Mione? The thing from the Boggart? How long until-"
"Gabriel," she said sharply. Her hands cupped his face, forcing his eyes to hers. "Calm down."
And he did. Just like that. The air between them steadied. The black faded from his eyes; the claws receded back into nails. His shoulders sank, his breathing evened out.
"Sorry," he murmured, ashamed. "That must've been scary."
Hermione shook her head. She took his hand in hers again, tracing her thumb along his hardened knuckles, over the rough, almost rock-like surface of the scarred skin. Her touch was slow, reverent.
"Not really," she said softly. "I'm not afraid when I'm with you, silly. You'd never hurt me. You're always protecting me- from the troll, from falling off your broom, from my own fears, even from the Heir when I didn't know I was in danger."
She smiled faintly. "Your strength isn't scary, Gabriel. It's comforting, really. And it's rather adorable that you can break stone with these-" she lifted his hand with both of hers, tiny fingers barely wrapping around his palm, "-and still be so careful with me."
His cheeks turned a deep red, but he didn't pull away.
Her smile softened further. She turned his hand palm-up, resting her cheek on it, eyes fluttering closed with a quiet sigh.
"I'm not mad because of the lesson, or because you picked a fight with a Boggart, Gabriel. I'm mad because you keep hurting yourself. And I hate seeing you hurt."
She looked up, pleading now. "So please… be more careful with yourself, alright?"
His blush was nearly atomic. And when she noticed, she smirked, smug and fond all at once.
"I love you," he blurted.
Her eyes widened. "Wha-"
Before she could finish, he was already moving - laughing, sweeping her up into his arms. She sputtered, trying to scold him, but he just leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Gabriel-! Put me down-!"
He kissed her cheek next. Then her jaw. Then her neck, laughing as she swatted at him, trying not to smile.
"Let me- Gabriel! I didn't finish the- paste-"
Her words died when he kissed her mouth.
When he finally pulled back, still laughing, she slipped her hand between his teeth, pressing it lightly against his fangs.
He froze instantly.
Hermione smirked. "I love you too," she said, withdrawing her hand and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before he'd even processed it.
-~=~-
The air outside was crisp and bright, the afternoon sunlight glinting over the green sweep of the Hogwarts grounds. A crowd had gathered on the grass - some sitting cross-legged, others standing in loose groups, all buzzing with anticipation.
Gabriel stood in the middle of it all, feeling both amused and mildly overwhelmed. Around him were his friends - Neville, Harry, Ron, Michael Corner, Padma, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Blaise Zabini - but also plenty of people he wasn't exactly close to. Parvati and Lavender from Gryffindor. Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis from Slytherin. Even Zacharias Smith had shown up. And sprinkled among them were a dozen faces Gabriel didn't even know.
He gave Padma a dry look. "You know, when I said I'd teach the Patronus Charm, I was thinking of something a little smaller."
Padma smirked. "A lot of people want lessons from the boy who fought a Dementor - and Dumbledore's apprentice, no less."
"You owe me for this," Gabriel said flatly.
"I'll think of something." She tilted her head, eyes twinkling. "But here's a free tip to start with - change your clothes into something more appropriate for the occasion."
He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at his current outfit - a comfortably worn t-shirt, jean shorts, and his usual bandaged arms. The bluebell flames flickering lazily around his wrists, ankles, and crown kept him warm in the chilly air. "What's wrong with this?"
"Trust me," she said, with the kind of grin that meant just do it.
Gabriel sighed. "Fine. Vestifors."
A rush of transfiguration magic swept over him. The t-shirt and shorts shimmered away, replaced by a dark navy-blue double-breasted vest with a tailored fit and black buttons, worn over a black dress shirt and a tie patterned in faint blue runes. Black trousers replaced his shorts, and lensless square glasses appeared on his face. He gathered his hair - now finally long enough - into a neat bun at the back of his head.
The crowd murmured.
Padma's grin widened.
"Kathedrifors," Gabriel intoned next, tapping the ground with his wand. Pebbles scattered across the grass rose and twisted into rows of sturdy wooden chairs. Another series of spells made the earth beneath them smooth itself into an even plane, and a large rock at the front was reshaped into a blackboard.
When the magic stilled, the field looked like an open-air classroom.
Gabriel turned back toward his audience with a small, self-satisfied smile - and nearly laughed at the mix of awe and disbelief on their faces. His gaze flicked instinctively toward Hermione.
She was staring at him, eyes wide open as if seeing him for the first time, her arms crossed with a tightly closed fist raised up to her mouth, where she was biting rather hard into a finger..
Gabriel smirked, then glanced sidelong at Padma, who was watching him with barely concealed amusement.
'Thank you,' he thought to her, sincerity flickering in his eyes.
'You're welcome,' she replied with a mischievous smile.
He turned to the assembled crowd, clapping his hands once. "Right, class is in session. Everyone, take a seat."
There was a rustle of movement as students scrambled to comply. Hermione was the first to sit, rushing right in the front row. Luna followed immediately, plopping down beside her and giving Hermione a serene, vaguely competitive smile.
Gabriel barely held back a snort.
This was going to be fun.
"Let's start from the beginning," Gabriel said once everyone had settled on the grass. "The Patronus Charm - full name Expecto Patronum - literally translates from Latin as 'I wait for a guardian', though a more accurate meaning would be 'I call upon a guardian'."
As he spoke, he drew the words and their translations on the blackboard with his wand, each stroke leaving trails of shimmering blue fire - the soft, living glow of his Bluebell Flames.
"It is an advanced defensive charm," he continued, turning back to them, "highly sophisticated and powered by emotion - both traits that reflect its ancient origins. The original form of the Patronus was likely the result of a ritual before it was eventually adapted into a spell for ease of use."
He began to pace slowly before the class, his voice calm and precise. "The charm functions by converting positive emotions - joy, hope, happiness, love - into a tangible magical force. This force manifests in two stages: the first, a non-corporeal mist; the second, a bright, solid form that takes the shape of an animal representing the caster's inner self."
He lifted his wand and gave it a slight flick. "Expecto Patronum!"
From the tip of his wand burst a torrent of silver mist, swirling in luminous waves before coalescing into a spectral shark. The creature hovered in the air, sleek and translucent, circling lazily above the gathered students. Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by soft laughter as the shark flipped in midair and began blowing ghostly bubbles that shimmered like moonlight.
"This is all well and good," Gabriel said, reaching up to idly pat the creature's head as it drifted by, "but it wouldn't be very useful if all it did was make pretty lights."
The shark swam behind him as he turned back to the blackboard. "The Expecto Patronum charm serves one true purpose: to repel dark creatures - and no, that's not the same as magical creatures, and I expect you all to know the difference by now."
He wrote 'DARK CREATURES ≠ MAGICAL CREATURES' in fiery letters as he spoke. "How effective the Patronus is depends on a few factors: the wizard's mastery of the spell, their magical strength, the potency of the emotions fueling it, and how 'dark' the creature is. Dementors, for example, react to the mist form as though it burns them - and are completely repelled by the corporeal form."
Several students leaned forward, their attention sharpened. Harry, in particular, was watching him with fierce concentration.
"I could spend a few hours here talking about the assumed origins of the spell, its historical development, notable users, and cases of use - all that shite," he said, with a faint grin. "But frankly, I don't have the time, and you won't have any use for that trivia until our OWLs. So let's skip to the important part. I'll teach you how to cast it."
A hand went up - not Hermione's, which surprised him - but Tracy Davis's. The Slytherin girl looked skeptical.
"Isn't the Patronus one of the hardest defensive charms there is? My father's an Auror, and I'm pretty sure he can't do it."
Gabriel looked at her evenly. "You can do it."
Tracy blinked. "But-"
"You can do it," he repeated, in the same tone one might use to say the sky is blue. Then, turning to the rest, he added simply, "You all can."
Silence. Then, slowly, heads nodded - uncertain but willing.
"Good," he said, his tone warming. "Let's start with the basics."
He demonstrated the wand motion - a sharp half-arc followed by a forward thrust - correcting their form and pronunciation until the words flowed more confidently from their lips. When he was satisfied, he stepped back to the front of the impromptu class, raising his wand.
Blue flames burst from its tip, sweeping outward in a perfect circle that enclosed the entire group. The air shimmered as the ring settled, pulsing gently like the heartbeat of the magic itself.
A few students glanced around nervously, but Gabriel waved them off. "Don't worry about it. Just a focus barrier - keeps distractions out."
He looked over them - faces lit blue in the flame's glow - and smiled faintly.
"Are you all ready to start?" he asked.
A few uncertain nods answered him.
He waited, saying nothing, just watching them - patient, unreadable. The silence stretched until it became a kind of pressure.
"Are you ready?" he repeated, this time with quiet insistence.
A louder, unified chorus of "Yes!" answered him.
"Wonderful." His smile widened slightly. "Then, close your eyes. Just like that."
He waited until every pair of eyes was shut. "Now," he murmured, almost softly - "Silencio. Tenebratio."
The Bluebell Flames brightened, and then the world within the circle fell utterly silent. No wind. No voices. Not even the faint hum of the castle in the distance.
Then the flames dimmed, bleeding to a deeper blue, and one by one, the students gasped silently as their vision completely vanished - the world swallowed by magical darkness.
"Now, please - without panic," Gabriel's voice came low and steady through the silence. "Focus on my voice, and only my voice. Can you do that?"
He waited a beat, then continued, quiet and deliberate. "Wonderful. You're doing great. Now I want you to think of a positive memory. Anything - your parents saying they love you, the first time you saw your younger sibling, the moment you opened your Hogwarts letter, the first sight of the castle, a birthday, or one lazy afternoon when the ice cream was perfect and the weather was right."
A moment passed as he let them settle.
"That's it… hold that. Keep the detail - the smell, the sound, the taste, whatever makes it real for you. Now, repeat with me and remember the motion: Expecto Patronum!"
No sound was heard, and then Gabriel's praise came, warm. "Good. Very good - you're doing brilliantly. Don't open your eyes; keep focusing on my words and the memory you chose, all right?"
He let them breathe for another long beat, then spoke softer. "Let me tell you a little bit more about the Patronus. Beyond the memory you hold, it needs two things: focus and determination. Focus on that single memory, and firmly - the misty Patronus doesn't happen because you're weak, it's because your mind is juggling too many things, or you can't properly call one thing up. Or maybe you just don't have a memory that feels right. And that's okay, too. Not everyone's life gives easy memories. So why don't we make some?"
His tone turned almost conspiratorial. "Think of the little things that make you happy. Chocolate. The smell of books. The warmth of a hearth. Rain on a roof. A person who makes your heart taut. Anything's valid, really. Imagine being surrounded by those things - or imagine what it would feel like to be surrounded by them. Ignore reality for a moment. If you don't have money for chocolate, or you're far from a hearth, or the person you love isn't here, doesn't love you back, or doesn't even exist? It doesn't matter. This is your mind. You are in control."
He let that sink in. Then he asked, softer now, "Shall we try again? With me: Expecto Patronum!"
Another silent moment passes, and Gabriel encourages them. "Wonderful! You're so good at this. I'm so proud of you. Don't try to open your eyes yet - please. I want you to hold that feeling."
His voice narrowed, precise. "Remember what I said about focus and determination? This determination isn't just the grit to make the spell - no, that doesn't matter. You've done that already! There's no doubt that you can do this spell. What I'm talking about here is determination to protect. To defend. This little paradise you have right now in your mind, the little memory of the past, future or present - you need you to protect it. You need to defend it. You need to. You need. You can't let anything or anyone end this little paradise we've made, can you?"
His question rang on the silence. "No. No, you can't. You need to protect it. So when I say the words this time I need you to do it along with me, so we can protect it and defend it and let nothing end this paradise. "
He counted quietly, calm as a metronome. "All right. On my count, we do it together. Are you ready? One - two - three - Expecto Patronum!"